I would think that by not capitalizing the word "frank," Eno is talking about truth, the frankness of truth, or the result of it's revealing, especially when someone's bluntness in speaking truth can be a bit of an explosion, so to speak.
Very often, the truth can be quite harsh, blatant, and revealing. In our society, truth is not something that is always welcome and, in some cases, isn't necessarily appropriate. Some things do not always have to be said.
While most will create their own "truths," so to speak, as a means of getting through their lives or justifying their actions and ideas, that doesn't mean those truths are correct or accurate. They are either at best opinions or at worst self-delusion, which is why when truth makes itself present, it can reveal to others, if not hopefully ourselves, the foolishness of those truths. It is often the kind of foolishness that is so obvious that it can't help but cock its head at us in contemptible wonder.
Truth can do and lead to much that doesn't have to be spelled out explicitly here, but it is often a bomb, an ever-present factor in our existence regardless of whatever we believe, acknowledge, or ignore. Its presence sits quietly behind doors, under rugs, in bottles, and even carefully taped over and blotted from view on the menus of our lives. And there it will remain, wherever we may have hidden it, at least for awhile.
If we're lucky, we may fool or at least throw people off the scent for a bit, but not forever.
No matter where you run, no matter what diversions you create, and no matter what you order from your life's menu, it is always going to be part of its original printing of permanent offerings, always waiting for someone to come along asking for it or actually serving it up.
I would think that by not capitalizing the word "frank," Eno is talking about truth, the frankness of truth, or the result of it's revealing, especially when someone's bluntness in speaking truth can be a bit of an explosion, so to speak.
Very often, the truth can be quite harsh, blatant, and revealing. In our society, truth is not something that is always welcome and, in some cases, isn't necessarily appropriate. Some things do not always have to be said.
While most will create their own "truths," so to speak, as a means of getting through their lives or justifying their actions and ideas, that doesn't mean those truths are correct or accurate. They are either at best opinions or at worst self-delusion, which is why when truth makes itself present, it can reveal to others, if not hopefully ourselves, the foolishness of those truths. It is often the kind of foolishness that is so obvious that it can't help but cock its head at us in contemptible wonder.
Truth can do and lead to much that doesn't have to be spelled out explicitly here, but it is often a bomb, an ever-present factor in our existence regardless of whatever we believe, acknowledge, or ignore. Its presence sits quietly behind doors, under rugs, in bottles, and even carefully taped over and blotted from view on the menus of our lives. And there it will remain, wherever we may have hidden it, at least for awhile.
If we're lucky, we may fool or at least throw people off the scent for a bit, but not forever.
No matter where you run, no matter what diversions you create, and no matter what you order from your life's menu, it is always going to be part of its original printing of permanent offerings, always waiting for someone to come along asking for it or actually serving it up.